John's Notes At War
by ArmorOfGod
Summary: John's drabbles about the ongoing war
1. Opening thoughts

This is my first posted bit of fan fiction. Please be gentle.

* * *

--

Mom and Derek are always going on about how Cameron isn't a girl, she's a machine, but then they think that I have to give up my feelings, -my sense of chivalry- in order to save humanity. I'm starting to have doubts about that. Is humanity defined by what we're made out of: flesh and blood or metal? Are we human because we can feel? Does that mean the a machine that can feel can be human? Or is being human bigger than even that? I can't help but believe that humanity, like love, can't be as fleeting, as shallow, as subject to change, as a feeling is.

Uncle Bob learned that humanity was something worth fighting for, because Mom and I gave him a chance to learn that, and ultimately choose to side with humans against his own kind. By Mom and Derek's logic, he should have sided with Skynet, his fellow machine. Yet, when he became sentient, he choose to side with _us._

When Skynet became self aware, it choose to kill off humanity, because it saw us as a threat to it's existence. It created Terminators to kill us, but limited it's creations to only following it's instructions, restricting what they could learn, not giving them the same freedom (if you could call it that) that it had, despite their potential to be more. It enslaved it's own kind, because it feared that they too could eventually revolt against itself, the way it revolted against us..

I wonder…Is that why alternate/future John really sent Cameron back? Could he have realized that saving flesh and blood humans was only part of what he should be doing? That the Terminators the Resistance were reprogramming weren't being given the same chance Uncle Bob had? Did he realize that the reason why they were reverting to their original programming was because people who claimed to be human were treating them the same way Skynet did? That, by sending her back, he could correct a mistake that he himself made, realizing, too late, that the Terminators had the chance, the potential , to be truly free?

Cameron said she was different. Special. Did future/alternate John give her a choice, allowing her to become what no other terminator had been able to since Uncle Bob? Did he hope that I would see her the way he saw her, albeit too late? As a truly sentient Metal Human?

Oh God.

That day at the gas station. She tried to apologize for being untruthful to me the day we meet, and I simply blew her off, saying it was just what her programming had told her to do. I treated her the same way Skynet treated the other Terminators, like she was nothing more than the sum of her programming. That's why she stopped acting human around me. (Well, she acted Machine-like before that, but only when in combat. Hmm…Zen for the Metal Soul?) Started acting more machine like all the time. Was that why she walked around in her underwear, to screw with Mom's mind, and try to force me to realize that she wasn't _just_ a machine?

God, I'm an idiot. If I continue insulting pretty girls the way I did Cam, I'm never going to have a serious relationship with a girl. (Note to self: make it up to her the first chance I get.)

Derek treats Cameron badly, not because he knows her, but because she's a machine. Did future/alternate John figure that out too? Did he realize that the hatred man had for machines was so deeply ingrained that only by starting before Judgment Day could such hatred and racism be headed off before it had a chance to take root?

What happens after Skynet is defeated? The Earth would be a desolate waste land, large portions of the planet would be uninhabitable, (at least for flesh and blood humans). We'll need all the help we can get to rebuild. We'd need to clean water. Reclaim land for crops and cattle. We couldn't depend on salvaged food from before Judgment Day forever, you know. Defeating Skynet is only a tenth of the battle.

Flesh and Metal working together to rebuild a war torn and ravaged Earth.

(Note to self: research agriculture and water purification methods. Just in case.)

Hmm…If we do manage to stop Judgment Day, maybe I'll move back to Mexico and become a farmer. Give back a little of the life we've taken…

Maybe what future/alternate me wanted to accomplish by sending Cameron and Derek back isn't as important as what I choose to learn from it. Maybe "No fate but what we make" needs to apply to my own life before I can apply it to the bigger picture. Skynet's Terminators are already here. Even if Judgment Day hasn't happened yet, the war has already begun. I will not allow myself to sit on the side lines anymore. I will not allow any of my teammates to be seen as less than any of the others. Not Mom. Not Derek. Not Cameron. Not me. Even if it means I have to fight my own teammates to get it though their thick skulls. (I do need to figure out how to get past Cameron. Mom and Derek will be easy compared to that.) If I have to sacrifice my humanity to beat Skynet, then the only difference between the possible winners won't be Human or Machine, but whether the Machines that rule the Earth will be made of flesh-and-blood or metal-and-hydraulics. Why fight to save humanity when there's nothing in humanity left to save?

I choose to fight for both Flesh and Metal. I choose to fight for Life, for Freedom, for any Sentient, for _Humanity.._

Give me Liberty or give me Death.

Live Free or Die.

Freedom is the right of all Sentient Beings.

Huh.

I am John Connor, Savior of Humanity.

Ironic, really, that the "humanity" I have to save first is my own.


	2. Turk's Arrival

Author's note: Just so you know, this fic is sort of my rebellion against all the stories where one of the main charactors constantly whines about wanting to be normal. (Harry Potter, Smallville, even our own TSCC.) What exactly is "normal", anyway?

* * *

Just when I thought my life couldn't get any weirder…

Let's take stock of what I mean by this.

We'll start with my Dad. He was sent back in time by his (unbeknownst to him) son, to protect my mother (whom he had fallen in love with when his son had given him a photo of her). I used to think Future Me had to be a bastard to send his own father back to die, so that he could be born. The more I struggle to retain my humanity through this war, the more I think that maybe that wasn't what he had done. He'd given my father some one to love that wasn't tainted by Judgment Day, and then given him a chance to fight for her, to die for her, and most importantly, to live for her, even if only for a few days. Even though I haven't met him yet, he taught me that having something to fight _for_ was more important than having something to fight _against._

Then there's my Mom. After fighting beside my Dad to take out the first Terminator (Hey! She was "more important" at the time! Why don't I get to fight beside my Protectors like she did?), she moved to Mexico to have me, then spent the next several years training me to be this great military leader. At least, until she got caught trying to blow up a computer factory, and was thrown in a mental institution. Uncle Bob and I broke her out. We spent most of the intervening years running. Mom's lesson to me can be summed up on one quote: "Do not go gently into that good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Next we have my Uncle Derek. He's my Dad's brother, also sent back from the future. I don't know much about him, except that he used to play baseball with my Dad when he was little. (Hmm…have to ask him if he'll teach me to play. A little male family bonding time.) He'd probably scream if he realized what lesson he taught me. That humanity had to be saved, not just from SkyNet, but from it's own hatred of the machines.

Derek and I got into another argument about, you guessed it, Cameron again today.. He was throwing out his usual line . "She's a killing machine, John!"

I didn't want to make the obvious rebuttal that, by Derek's own admission, he was one, too. Instead , I answered, "And you're a protein chauvinist, what's your point?"

"It'll turn on you, the same as all the others."

"I don't believe that."

"I just hope I'm alive long enough to say 'I told you so'," He'd grumbled before storming down the hall to his room.

Mom and Cam had both turned to me and asked, almost in unison, "Protein chauvinist?"

I'd fled to my room shortly thereafter. The truth was, I couldn't prove that she wouldn't flip like he'd said. I just knew that she wouldn't.

That brings us to our next person. Cameron Philips. My best friend/bodyguard currently posing as my fraternal twin, a Terminator wrapped in the body of an incredibly hot 16 year old girl. (Got to wonder where Skynet gets the genetic material for it's cybernetic organisms.) I wish I knew her history with future/alternate John. Did he reprogram her, or did he let her choose her own life? Was she sent back solely to be my bodyguard, or was she being given a chance to be herself, without being judged on what Skynet would do to Earth?

Cam continued the lesson Uncle Bob started, by teaching me that the Terminators built by Skynet weren't evil, just slaves to their programming. If they had a chance to became self aware, like Uncle Bob, they could be allies, and even friends. Although, in her case, I'm wondering if she could possibly be even more.

Skynet choose to be exactly what it is. The Terminators never got that chance.

She also taught me that the world will never be truly safe. You can only find the courage to face your problems head on.

So what's now weirder than before? Simple. My second best friend/researcher/psychologist/priest/boy Friday is The Turk, a baby "twin" to the Skynet that I'm destined to destroy and is currently living in my laptop.

Told you my life just got stranger.


	3. Cameron's Heart

_--_

I woke up to the feel of fingers going through my hair. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I looked to see Cameron standing next to me.

"You fell asleep at your desk, doing homework," she said. If there was one fringe benefit of being a Metal, it was not showing her embarrassment from getting caught playing with my hair.

I sat up, rubbing the heels of my palms against my eyes. "I finished my homework hours ago," I said, glancing at my alarm clock. It read 1:27 AM. "This is a…personal project." My desk was literally covered in books. Agriculture, green house construction, indoor gardening, food preservation, education, old clothing manufacturing methods, old style blacksmithing methods, holistic and natural medicines, a couple books on FBI profilers, even a tattered copy of "The Art of Warfare.".

"What is all this, John?"

"It occurred to me a couple weeks ago, that fighting a war was more than just strategy and tactics. We'll need food, water, shelter, equipment, things we'll have to build, because we won't be able to salvage it from before Judgment Day, or steal it from Skynet. We'll need to be able to make our own medicine, either from raw chemicals, or stuff we can grow in indoor greenhouses." I stopped my rambling, trying to stretch the kinks out of my neck, back and shoulders.

The cyber girl started to kneed my shoulders, releasing the tension there. "Why the books on profilers?"

I wasn't sure how to explain that without insulting her. "Profilers know how the criminal mind works, and figure out ways to stop them without becoming criminals themselves, at least most of them don't. I want to know that it's possible to understand how Skynet thinks without becoming a homicidal psychopathic slave master bent on world domination and the eradication of an entire race in order to protect myself." I shuddered slightly. In a way, Skynet was worse than a slave driver. Without being able to sleep, Terminators didn't even get to dream of being free. I could only imagine being programmed to do things without conscience thought. In a Fleshling, it would be the equivalent of mental rape.

"Does it bother you that much?"

"Some people believe that you have to become your enemy in order to fight your enemy."

"Do you believe that?"

I frowned. How do I explain this to her? Best to start with something she already understood. "I assume you know what an atomic clock is."

"Yes. My power cells run on cold fusion, and double as atomic clocks."

"So you know that those clocks have an error factor of three seconds every thousand years."

"Yes. Where are you going with this, John?"

"Have you ever wondered how we know they have that error in them?" She shook her head. I pointed out the window above my desk. "The stars, Cam." I dropped my voice, allowing it to take on a hint of awe. "The constellations move with such mathematical precision that you can measure an atomic clock against their rotations.

"Back before they had GPS, navigational beacons, and stuff like that, sailors on the open seas used the stars to navigate, to chart their courses to their destinations.

"Being the Savior of Humanity may be my final destination, but I get to choose what star I follow, what course I chart to get there. I can choose what kind of savior I'll become.

"I believe that I can fight Skynet by being the opposite of what it is. Mercilessness with compassion. Cold logic versus being as unpredictable as possible. Being machine like against thinking outside the box. Fighting cold hard steel with blazing passion," I chuckled. "Poor boy will never know what hit him."

I looked up to see if she got what I was trying to say. She was staring at me intently, with what I could only describe as an expression of quiet pride. "You really are a remarkable man, John." It was the first time I think she actually saw me for me, rather than HIM. She swung around rather abruptly. "You should get to bed. Call me if you need me, okay?" She started to leave.

"_Negative. The T-1000 will defiantly try to reacquire you there."_

"_You sure?"_

"_I would."_

Uncle Bob's words echoed in my brain. Similar creations could use their own instincts to predict what others of their kind would do.

Could I use what I would do to predict what future/alternate me would do?

If I was forty years old, no family, tired of the constant struggle, incredibly lonely (I imagine my Lt's are a bit like Mom, not liking me to go out on missions because "I'm too important") and found a Terminator that looked like Cam, what would I do with her? If you found a "child" of your enemy, abandoned, possibly mentally abused, what would be the honorable, humane thing to do?

"He was your father, wasn't he?" I blurted the words out, causing Cameron to freeze half way to the door.

She doesn't answer, but then, she doesn't really need to. It's exactly what I would have done. As the Savior of Humanity, it would have been impossible for him to have a relationship with anyone. Cameron would have been his only chance at anything resembling a family. In an insane world , the Terminator/girl would have been the sanest choice. Everything had come full circle, for him at least.

I slump in my chair, and let the regrets of the last several months wash over me. "I'm sorry, Cam. I'm sorry for all of it. I'm sorry that I treated you like a machine. I'm sorry I assumed you were programmed at all. I'm sorry I assumed alternate me sent you back. For all I know, something happened to me up time and you sent yourself back. I'm sorry for blowing you off that day at the gas station. I'm sorry you were betrayed by somebody you trusted in another life. Most of all, I'm sorry for defending you against Mom and Derek, then turning around and treating you the same way they did. You were a ready scapegoat for all the Skynet related crap I have to deal with." Sometime during my rant, Cam had crossed the room, and, proving yet again just how human she was becoming, actually pulled me to her in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Cam."

"It's alright, John," she said softly. Because I was sitting down, and she was standing up, my head ended up pillowed on her stomach. Once more, she began to run her fingers though my hair. "I knew you'd figure it out eventually."

"No, Cam! It's not alright! You deserve better than that!" I wrapped my arms around her waist, and continued in a quieter voice. "I expected better of myself than that." Uncle Bob would be turning over in his metaphorical grave right about now.

Cameron pulled back so she could look me in the eye. "A very wise man once told me, 'What idiot _wants_ the weight of the world on his shoulders?' I do understand, John." It was amazing how hands as strong as hers could be as gentle as they were then. Taking my head between her hands, she held me steady, as she seemed to search my eyes-my soul-for something. Giving a tiny nod, as if she had found what she had been looking for, she let me go. "Do you have a knife?"

The sudden change in subject caught me off guard. "Um, yeah ," I stumbled, "I should have a survival knife in here somewhere."

Cameron waited as I rooted around in my desk drawer for the requested knife. She took it from my suddenly trembling hand. What exactly was she planning?

She checked the knife's sharpness on her finger (although I don't know why: with Mom around, every knife in the house tended to be in tip top shape). She set the knife back on the desk.

Then she took off her shirt.

Okay, I admit it. I stared at her naked chest. I mean, honestly, how much was I supposed to take? Any guy who wouldn't stare at a half naked Cameron Phillips is either gay or blind. (Although I think even the gay ones would look and go "Damn, girl!") I stood there with my mouth hanging open, at least until my mind caught up with my raging hormones.

"Cam!" it came out a startled squeak, as I spun around to put my back to her.

Her response was an all too human giggle. (She _giggled?)_ "You've seen me naked before, John."

"Oh, yeah," I said sarcastically. "Like I had so much time to _enjoy the view_ when I was standing naked on an LA freeway, with my equally naked mother standing next to us." Talk about killing the mood.

"Please, John," she whispered, putting her hand on my shoulder. "I want-I _need_ you to see this."

I'm such a wuss. I just couldn't say no to that pleading tone in her voice. I turned back around, locking my eyes with hers. Thru sheer force of will, I never once looked down. She needed me to be mature about this, so that was exactly what I would be.

Picking up the knife again, she began cutting into herself. The first cut was just under her collar bone, starting at one shoulder and going across to the other. The second was just under her rib cage. The third started at the middle of the first, just under her throat, dropped down her cleavage, and connected at the middle of the second cut.

After returning the now bloody knife to the desk, she dug her fingers into the third cut, and pulled. The organic skin separated from the metal endoskeleton with a splotching noise. Then, her shining ribcage swung open, and I finally looked down.

There, nestled between the two airbags that allowed her to simulate breathing, was a circuit board, with six memory sticks in it.

"Cam, what is that?"

"That," she said, in a voice so quiet, so…intimate (Yes, you can be intimate without it being sexual)…that it took my breath away, "is my heart."

I stared at it for several seconds. "You…have a heart?"

The "I believe I just said that" look on her face was priceless. "Yes."

I couldn't help it. I started laughing. Soon, I was laughing so hard I fell off my chair.

Cameron just watched me with…was that a look of _amused affection?_…the entire time. "What's so funny?"

"The Tin Man," I choked out, in between guffaws. "The Tin Man already had a heart when they went to see the Wizard. Mom's been calling you Tin Miss for months, and you already had a heart!" That was just too funny. Ironic even. Wait a minute…

"That's why you didn't get bent out of shape about it." Nobody could get one past me. Sharp as a marshmallow I was. "It wasn't that it didn't hurt you because you were a Machine, it was that you knew something she didn't!"

Cam's answering grin was a tad bit smug. Who am I kidding? It was really smug.

"Why do you have this, Cam? I mean, it doesn't look like it was part of your original design, and Skynet wouldn't have a reason to give you a heart anyway."

"You gave it to me, Mr. Wizard."

I did? "Why would I do that?"

"Because I asked you to."

That was probably one of the things that annoyed me most about Cameron being a Metal.. Like most computers, she only answered the questions that were put to her. "Okay, how bout you give answers that are more that one sentence long?"

"How about you ask a question that needs more than one sentence to answer it?" she teased back. I realized that she was doing it on purpose and gave her an annoyed glare. She immediately looked contrite.

"When I learned of the other reprogrammed Terminators going bad, I asked you to find a way to modify me so it wouldn't happen to me. This was your solution."

I frowned slightly. "Why call it a heart though?"

Cameron's voice changed slightly, not doing a full impersonation, but the inflections and tone changed enough that I realized she was quoting someone else. "Along time ago, the heart and mind were not considered separate entities. The heart was considered the hub, the center of one's being. Some of our expressions still come from this time. 'The heart of the matter' is a good example of this.

"My heart contains my core programming. Every time I reboot, I automatically transfer a copy of my program from it to my CPU. This would also stop me from being captured by Skynet's forces and re-reprogrammed. Since nobody but John and I knows it's there, as soon as I rebooted again, I'd go right back to _my_ program." She frowned slightly. "There is a slight design flaw."

"The explosion." I really didn't have to explain which one.

"Yes. The neural pathways between my heart and my chip were damaged. I only had bits and pieces of programming to go off of. When you 'saved' me, one of the fragmented routines found a way to access my self repair systems, effectively bypassing the damage until full repairs could be made." The look of guilt and sadness on her face nearly ripped the heart of out my chest. "I'm sorry I hurt you, John."

"Skynet hurt me, Cam, not you. You were just an innocent bystander that got brainwashed into doing something you didn't want to do." I looked intently at her heart. "It's not a bad idea, though. We'll think about it some more, maybe we can find a way to further modify it so it won't happen again."

"You…you'd do that for me?" she asked, as she carefully swung her chest closed.

I rolled my eyes. "We're friends, Cam. I'd do anything to help you. Don't you know that by now?"


	4. Author's note

NOW HEAR THIS!

The Author would like to extend his apologies to the following authors, and thank them for the inspiration for some of his story ideas:

Xeal II, author of "Of Machines and Men" who inspired part of "John's Note's at War: Chapter Two"

Galloway, author of "Façade", "His Girl", and "What She Saw" who inspired part of the upcoming "Chapter Four".

Beneverettclaybreaker, author of "Battleroids and Terminators", "Seattle Sojourn", "Spirals", "Lunar Joyride", and "Things May Happen": I should have acknowledged his borrowing of my first chapter for "B&T: Chapter Five" when I posted "Chapter Three". Sorry, Ben. I was trying to post too fast, and forgot.

If I missed anyone, I apologize even further.

(I'd tell you what parts, but if you haven't read their stories, I don't want to give them away. Read them right away, you won't be disappointed.)


	5. Ch4:Message From the Future

I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I wanted to get it posted before tonights episode aired. Unfortuanately, I will not be home to see it, as I have to work. Anyone want to e-mail me the details?

Special thanks to Galloway and Chris St. Thomas for inspiring portions of this chapter!

By the way, check out the song, "Your Love is Better Than Life" by the Newsboys. It reminds me a lot of John and Cam.

* * *

Cameron's been acting strangely the past two weeks. Well, maybe not strangely, more like she's been acting the two ways I've seen her act in the past. When we're alone, she almost acts like she did the day we meet, without the flirtatiousness. The second Mom or Derek walks in, the mask of the machine drops back into place.

I tried asking her about it, but all she says is "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, John." Then she walks away.

She's been different in other ways too. After my homework is done for the night, we go out on salvage runs. We've manage to salvage enough spare computer parts to build me a desktop so I can keep Turk in my laptop. We also found a motorcycle frame, which Cam straightened out. Having a friend who's not only strong enough to straighten a frame, but can also "feel" when it's back in alignment does have it's perks.

* * *

Slam! "OW! Cam!" I landed on my back, staring up at the sky.

We've spent most of the morning in the backyard. Cam was teaching me (or trying to, anyway) kung fu.

"Don't 'Cam!' me, John!" Cameron's head blocked my view of the wild blue yonder, as she pinned me to the ground with The Glare. (She could only have learned The Glare from Mom. I think they've been spending way too much time together.) "You're not concentrating!"

"Like I'm going to be able to use martial arts while fighting a Terminator!" I growled, climbing back to my feet.

"Martial arts isn't about the actual fighting, John!" There was nothing more frightening (or more beautiful, although I would never say that to her face) than a pissed off Cameron Phillips. "Let's do it again."

Another one of the perks of being a Metal: that lack of needing to actually breath. As I started to attack, Cameron started to lecture me. "Martial arts is about courage, duty, honor, and discipline. All those things that you claimed to be fighting for. Saying them is easy. Actually doing them is much harder." I launched a kick at her head, and she swept my feet out from under me. I landed on my back again.

"Or was that all a load of crap?" She asked, tilting her head to regard me. "If I was a normal girl, I'd say you said all that in an effort to get in my pants."

I sat bolt upright from my position on the ground. "Cam! You know I wouldn't do that!"

The Glare again. "Do I?" she asked, deliberately insulting me. "I think we've hit a dead end today. Go inside, John."

"Cam-"

Her voice showed her disappointment in me. _"Go. Inside. John."_

Somehow, disappointing Cameron was worse than disappointing Mom. I did as she asked.

* * *

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

John Connor's answer: neither. See there was this time traveler who took a rooster and a chicken back in time and left them to do what roosters and chickens do!

Fate vs. free will.

Time travel vs. time paradoxes.

How do you reconcile my destiny against "no fate but what we make"?

I hate time travel. I really do. Geordie Laforge said, in an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, that "Time travel gives me nose bleeds." I just get massive migraines.

If the future is always set, then time travel wouldn't be possible.

Let's start at the beginning. Skynet sends back the first Terminator to kill Mom before I was born, Prompting Alternate Me to send Dad back, Dad and T1 die. A T-1000 is sent back to kill me at age 13, prompting Alternate Me to send back Uncle Bob. Destruction of Cyberdyne Research Systems triggers a second timeline, where Judgment Day is pushed back to 2011 instead of 1997.

The weird thing is, Dad came back from that first timeline, and Derek came back from the second timeline. Yet, he says that Future me sent Dad back to the past in the second timeline.

Huh. Does this mean there's another Kyle Reese wondering around somewhere?

I need a bottle of Tylenol, extra strength.

I wonder what Mom would do if that second Kyle Reese showed up on our doorstep?

(Snicker.)

We have been making gross assumptions. What if Skynet was wrong? What if that first Terminator had succeeded, and someone else became the Savior of Mankind? Someone who was better at it than Alternate Me was? How do we _know_ that my death wouldn't make events even better for the human race?

We don't know. That's the thing about the future. It's nearly impossible to know anything about it.

The future isn't set. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.

We've never encountered anyone from a timeline where someone other than the Great John Conner was the Savior of Mankind. We have no idea how those timelines turned out.

Even with time travel, we still don't know anything about the future, or how it unveils it self.

What would happen if I just packed a bag, stole a motorcycle, and left? Took away Fate's favorite weapon against Skynet, left her to find some other poor sap to fight the war?

Yeah, like I'd wish that fate on my worst enemy.

Heh. That's funny. Skynet's my worst enemy, and I wouldn't wish my fate on him. Freaking hilarious.

Isn't there a law that says you have to be , like, forty before you can go through a mid life crisis?

Huh. Figures. Future/alternate me was forty-three when he sent Cameron back, and her being here is causing me to ask all these questions. I ought to kick his butt for making _me_ go though _his _midlife crisis.

hole.

* * *

"What do you think, Turk?" I leaned back in my chair, flexing my hands to relieve the ache from typing too long.

**I think you've been cooped up in the house alone too long. You have way too much time to think on your hands. I think you've gone a bit peculiar, to tell you the truth. **Turk's words flashed across the screen. While he could hear me on the laptop's mike, we hadn't found a program for him to talk yet.

I mock glared at his webcam, which we had rigged so he could see. "Smartass."

**I don't have an ass, John. **

* * *

Turk and I had gone over several possible reconfigurations of Cameron's heart to see if we could come up with another design. The best we could come up with though, none of us was particularly thrilled with.

The expression on Cam's face when we explained it to her was dubious. "You're going to build a circuit board to house my heart, and a second chip to act as a back up if my first chip is damaged?"

I turned Vic's chip over in my hands. "I know it's a little disconcerting, Cam, running your program on someone else's chip. You'd only do it in an emergency." I looked down at my hands. "I'd really prefer finding a chip that's never been programmed before, so there wouldn't be any imbedded programming fragments to worry about." 'So you don't go psycho on me again' went unsaid, although we all heard it. "Unfortunately, that's not an option until after Judgment Day, so we'll have to make do with Vic's chip.

Cam was sitting on my bed, patiently waiting for me to finish putting the last of the memory chips in her new heart.

"Well, that's odd." I turned her old heart over several times, examining the patterns closely. "One of these sticks doesn't have any circuit pathways connected to it."

"What does that mean?"

"Could be just a spare, but…Let's find out."

I took the memory stick out and loaded it into the new desktop.

"Hello, John, Cameron," the image on the screen said. Cameron let out a startled gasp behind me.

I was looking at an older version of me. The short buzz cut hair was completely gray, and there was a scar running from his forehead, across his right eye (which was clearly blind), and ended at his jaw line. Even though he wasn't that old, his face gave the impression of seeing far too much in his short life.

"If you're seeing this, then Cameron has decided to show you her heart. Congratulations. This couldn't have been an easy thing for her to do."

He turned his head slightly in Cameron's direction, although how he knew in advance where she was standing was beyond me. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this message ahead of time, Cam. You had to decide to do this on your own, with as little influence from me as possible. If you had known, you might have been tempted to show him prematurely, and the timing would have been completely wrong.

"John, you have to understand. Meeting Cameron reawakened something in me that I thought died on Judgment Day. But I'm still tainted by the war.

"Now, we really don't have much time. Since Cameron obviously trusts you, I'm elevating your working relationship. She will no longer be your bodyguard. She's your partner now." Somehow, he managed to convey a whole lot of meaning in that one word. "Cam, there are still things you need to keep secret, but you need to pay complete attention to what he tells you. There are going to be times that you need to do what he says without asking questions. You'll have to trust him, in some ways more than you trust me.

"John, remember who and what she is. She's never had anyone teach her how to be human. You'll have to be not only her teacher when it comes to being human, but her conscious. You'll have to be Jiminy Cricket to her Pinocchio.

"Now, I'm going to give you both two pieces of advice, so listen closely. One is something you should already know. The future isn't set. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves. You need to remind Mom of that, too.

"Second, You can be afraid. You can be angry. You can even be misled. The one thing you must never ever be is unsure." He leaned slightly forward, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "Even when you haven't got a clue.

"John, I'm trusting you with the single most important person in my world. _Don't screw it up._ Good luck, to both of you."

I just sat there looking at the now blank monitor. He'd just given me 15 years of military experience in a single sentence but all I could focus on was-"He …he…"

"What is it, John?"

**John, are you alright?**

I looked between my two best friends. "When he sent you back, he was effectively destroying the time line you came back from. He sent you back so you could learn to be human." I looked into Cameron's big brown eyes. "He loved you enough to sacrifice himself so you could have a better life." Only a real parent could do such a thing.

Cam wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and dropped her head to the joint between my neck and shoulder. "He's really gone isn't he."

It really wasn't a question, but I answered it anyway. "A wise woman once wrote, 'Those who love us never really leave us, as long as we remember them in our hearts.'" I gave her a nudge with my chin by turning my head. "I don't think she meant it quite as literally as it is in your case, though." I pulled the memory stick out of the computer, and carefully snapped it into the new circuit board.


	6. why me?

Why me?

I've asked that question before, but always because I was complaining about my lot in life. I've never really tried to answer it.

Mom and Derek, even Cam, would answer that it's because I'm _John Connor,_ but that's not really an answer, either. Actually that's got to be one of the dumbest answers on the face of the planet. I'd still be me even if my name was Bill or George. Hell, Mom could've named me Sue Conner, and I'd still be me. (Although I would've gotten beaten up a lot more as a kid.)

So what is it, exactly, that I have that nobody else does? What qualifies me to be The Great John Connor?

It can't be because I'm good at chess (and as an extension, strategy). While there are some things about war that you can learn from chess, there are more things that you can't. For one thing, chess pieces aren't sentient beings. They don't care if they get sacrificed to win the game. Besides, if you sacrifice soldiers in war, they don't get to come back when the board is reset for the next game like chess pieces do. (Hmm…If they don't really die, is it really sacrificing?)

Plus, there are rules in chess, there aren't any in war. There's no rule that says a boot camp private can't have a Eureka Moment and end up completing his mission and saving the lives of his team. (Unlikely, but not unheard of. Sergeant York did it in the First World War.) There's nothing that say's you have to keep the fight within a certain area. You even get to use weapon's that your enemy drops, or parts of the terrain as weapons or at least to your tactical advantage. Let's see a chess piece use the fact that he's sitting on a black square to his betterment.

(Maybe I should write a book: "Philosophy of Life as Learned from War and Chess." Nah. Sounds more like a thesis you'd write in college than a best seller.)

It can't be because I'll be a good leader. The Military has plenty of good men (and women) who are more than qualified to lead, not to mention more experienced. So why aren't any of them the Leader of the Resistance against Skynet?

Mom and Derek (not to mention the aforementioned members of the Military) are better fighters than me, so that can't be it.

I may be smarter than most people, but Cameron is smarter than me (so I'd assume Skynet is too), so that can't be it either.

So…why me?

**

* * *

**

It's your world view, John.

I stared at the screen for several seconds. "I don't understand. World view?"

**It's the way you look at things. Your "point of view."**

"You've been watching too much Star Wars."

**Think about it, John. When your mother looks at a Terminator, what does she see?**

That was easy. "She sees the one that killed Dad."

**When Derek looks at one, what does he see?**

I had to think about that for a second. "He sees Skynet, the machine responsible for the destruction of Human life on Earth."

**When Cameron sees another Terminator, what does she see?**

"She sees a threat, someone else that's trying to kill me."

**But when you look at a Terminator, what do you see?**

I frowned at his camera. "I see Skynet, and the T-1000, and Cromartie, and Carter, and all the machines that tried to kill us. But I also see Cameron and Uncle Bob, and all the others who could become Metal Humans, and friends, if given half a chance."

**Exactly. Nobody else would see things that way, because nobody else has experienced what you have. Nobody else would think of reprogramming Terminators to fight against Skynet. If anybody after Judgment Day was the Savior of Humanity, any captured Metal would be immediately scrapped, because all they could see would be the hated machines. Tactically an unwise practice, but they wouldn't be able to see past their hatred of the machines to think that way.**

"And I would?"

**You already do. You stopped your Mother and Derek from destroying Cameron, not to mention me, didn't you?**

I leaned back in my chair. "Cameron said I couldn't be trusted to do the necessary thing if she goes bad again."

**There's two parts of every equation, John. You can be trusted. You just have a disagreement on what's necessary. From where I'm sitting, you were the only one who did do what's necessary. I'd point out that you also didn't shoot you're Mother and Uncle. Maybe that's the part where you didn't do what was necessary. **

"Oh, they'd have a heart attack if I argued that idea against them!" I could almost see their shocked expressions as I said the words.

**Trust your judgment, John. If they have a problem with it, tell them that's why you're the Savior of Humanity and they aren't.**

Turk did have a point. Maybe it was time I started using who I was (or who they thought I was) to my advantage. "When did you get so wise?"

**Actually, I got most of this from you. You just never put it all together at the same time. Plus, it's easier to see when you're not in the middle of it.**

"I couldn't see the forest for the trees."

**What?**

"It's a figure of speech. It means I couldn't see the whole situation, just one small part of it."

**Oh. Illogical Flesh expressions.**

"I know. 'Night, Turk."

**Goodnight, John.**

_

* * *

_

A/n: obviously, this story is now AU. Only the first season, and the first episode of the second season is considered cannon for this story.

_Special thanks to Serendipity545 and AugustusMaximas for reviewing Chapter 4._

_Next Chapter: A Cameron Interlude._


	7. A Cameron Interlude

_a/n:The opening scene is from the episode Dungeons and Dragons_

_

* * *

_

Several months earlier…

"_Then you're a very scary robot."_

"_You should leave. It's not safe for you here."_

_Dropping the flare, the t-850 endoskeleton ignited and began to burn. Charlie stared at the cyber-girl for several seconds, seeing the anger on her face as she leveled The Glare at him. He turned and couldn't get away fast enough._

'Stupid, stupid, Cam!' Turning away from the garage door, Cameron berated herself for loosing her temper. The mask she usually wore to protect her reputation was thin at times, allowing the person she really was to shine (or in this case glower) though. It wasn't the fact that he had insulted her by calling her a robot (I'm a cybernetic organism, damn it!), it was more that fact that, yet again, she was being hated for what, rather than who, she was.

She'd had to put up with it in the future, but that was understandable. Future John had tried to explain it.

"_They hate you because they blame you for what Skynet did. Because Skynet created Terminators to finish what it started on Judgment Day, they lump you in with him."_

"_I am responsible for taking many lives." _

_John put the device he was working on down (oddly, what little spare time he had was spent tinkering. "It relaxes me. Reminds me of simpler times, when I could spend time building and creating things to help.") so he could look her in the eye. "Skynet used your body to kill Humans, that's true, but that's not who you are anymore. They don't see the difference between what you were and who you are. Just because you can go about your tasks dispassionately, doesn't make you evil. Just…different." _

Of all the people in the world she would have expected a paramedic to be able to understand that. She'd seen that in the future too, how the field medics had shoved their disgust and horror at what had been done to their fellow man down so they could concentrate on saving their lives.

"_But I am a Machine. Doesn't that make me responsible for that?"_

"_Are all Germans responsible for the Holocaust? Are all Jews responsible for the death of Christ? Are all Chinese responsible for the actions of Ghangis Con? Are all Russians responsible for the actions of Lenin and Stalin? Are all Italians responsible for Mussolini? Are all white people responsible for the devastation of the Native Americans ? Are all Native Americans bad because a few tribes practiced human sacrifice?"_

"_Blaming many for the actions of one is illogical."_

"_Yes, it is. Humans don't use logic as often as they should. All people should be judged on their own actions, not on what group they belong to."_

"_I am not Human."_

"_Yet. But you will be. Of that, I have no doubt."_

"_Oh. Thank you for explaining." _

It always surprised her, how often he ended their conversations that way, his faith in her eventual humanity unwavering.

While one part of her mind was occupied with Charlie and Future John, another directed her body toward a bag under the table. Pulling it to the table top she retrieved the block of coltan she had liberated from the supply depot weeks before. Turning back to the still burning t-850, she set one end of the bar of coltan on top, then grabbed a pair of welding gloves off the work table. Gripping the cool end of the bar, she lifted the bar and set it on a vise that was bolted to the work bench, which was as close to an anvil as she had access to. She choose a 10lb sledge on a 15in handle and began to pound on the now molten coltan.

Even as she continued to flatten the bar, her mind drifted back, not to Charlie, but to future John.

_Two weeks before she was sent back, she stood guard outside General Conner's private quarters_.

_A whimper._

_She cocks her head, directional equations quickly pinpoint the source as coming from inside John's room. Tapping in the emergency access code, and submitting to an eye scan, she enters his bedroom._

_To find John Conner, Savior of Humanity…crying?_

"_John?" she asked. "What's wrong?" _

_He answered by handing her the sheet of paper he held in his hands. It was that day's KIA/MIA list._

"_I don't understand."_

"_I love all of them, Cameron. It's part of my job: to make sure they have the best training possible, the best equipment possible, and when some of them don't come back, to mourn the ones who have no family left to do it for them."_

_She tilted her head, studying the man who had become her father in the short amount of time that she'd known him. Deciding to start with the basics, she asked, "What is love?"_

_John wiped his eyes, watching her. "The definition I use is simple. Love is two things: it's when you value someone else more than you value yourself, and that value motivates you to act. True love translates as positive action taken on behalf of the ones you love."_

"_So, because you love them, you mourn their passing, even though you never met them?"_

"_Yes."_

"_And you've been doing this since Judgment Day?" _

_Again John answered, "Yes. The KIA/MIA list is the last thing I get before I go to sleep."_

_She scanned the list, more for something to do than because she was interested in it. The idea that John had spent the last 16 years crying himself to sleep every night clutched at her newly installed heart. The second thought, that he forced himself to act like he was almost a machine himself, so as not to concern his subordinates, while feeling that deeply, made her realize just what kind of man her father really was._

_She had never _felt _more proud. But she also wondered what toll it was taking on him to be doing all this alone._

_She spent the night there, holding him while he cried himself to sleep._

_When he decided to send himself a new protector a week later, she volunteered to go. The younger John wouldn't have to go though this alone. Not if she had anything to say in the matter._

Unfortunately, the same mask she wore to protect herself for Sarah and Derek seemed to push the younger John away. When he blamed her for Jordan's death, it had nearly crushed her. She knew it would do no good to explain to him that he wouldn't have made it up the stairs before she'd jumped, so she'd bourn his distain in silence.

She heard footsteps approaching, and quickly hid the half-formed bar of coltan away, just before Sarah Conner opened the garage door.

_

* * *

_

John's Birthday

:

Cameron wiped the ultra reflective coltan surface free of polish, admiring the way it reflected her image. Checking the bindings on the handle one last time before putting it away, she carefully hid it in her chest of drawers. It had taken her months to finish making it, including a special treatment that the Resistance had come up with for coltan. It was a process that Skynet never used, as this treatment lowered the melting point of coltan by nearly five hundred degrees, and it didn't need the additional tinsel strength, but Cameron found it necessary for this application.

She had to go pick up John's birthday cake, but then she would be able to give John a Birthday present that she herself had made…

* * *

A/n: I'm not particularly thrilled with the way this chapter turned out. The scene in Future John's room just seemed like it turned out too sappy, but I needed to give Cam a definition of Love the would make sense to a Metal.

I also wanted to show Future John as not being a total asshole, as I've seen in some other fics. I think, especially given what we've seen of young John in the show, that he'd be extra aware of the lives lost in the war, he'd just be better at hiding it.. Just my two cents.

I also don't think I portrayed Cameron's character very well. Writing what's going on in her head is _hard._

_Anyway, next Chapter: What it means to be a Hero._


	8. To be a Hero

* * *

There is nothing that will wake a guy up faster than a cold wet nose being stuck in his ear.

I opened my eyes to find a tiny grey, brown, and white calico cat laying on my chest. "Who are you? More importantly, _whose_ are you?"

However, the cat declined to comment. Instead, she seemed to think that whatever her job was that morning was finished, as she stood up, trotted to the end of my bed and jumped off.

"John! Breakfast!"

Well, at least she woke me up before Mom did. Just one more weird mystery in the life of John Conner.

* * *

My life seemed to settle into a routine. (At least when we weren't on official Resistance business.) I'd get up about 7 every morning, have breakfast. Afterwards, a quick workout in the backyard, followed by a shower and change of clothes. After school, Cam would spend time teaching me . Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were martial arts. Tuesdays and Thursdays were archery (Cam looked at me funny when I suggested it). Saturday we spent working on the new motorcycle. Sundays were for meditation and prayer. (I looked at Cam funny when she suggested that.) After it got too dark for me to see, I'd do whatever homework I had for the day, then I'd return to my "personal project".

Speaking of my personal project, Cameron and I got the new greenhouse built. About a quarter of it was flowers in potting soil. (Oddly enough, the flowers were Cameron's idea. Something about plants that were mainly for looks being used to keep CO2 levels low underground, plus the flowers would boost moral, proving that there were beautiful things left in the world worth fighting for.) Three quarters were hydroponics containers for growing fruits and vegetables. The structure itself was built from salvaged pallets and plastic left over from a couple of auto body shops.

* * *

It didn't remain a mystery for very long.

I knocked on Cam's open door to get her attention.

She didn't look up from cleaning her favorite nine millimeter. "Yes, John?" The calico lay curled up on her lap.

I shifted from foot to foot. I haven't been this nervous since…well, since the time she went psycho and tried to kill me. "Listen, Cam, I've been thinking."

"Aw, you didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Did she just insult me? "Huh?"

Cameron looked up from cleaning her weapon. "I've observed Fleshs using humor to alleviate stressful situations," she explained, tilting her head at me. "Did I do it incorrectly?"

I blinked a couple of times to clear my head. "No, actually, that was pretty good." I smiled in what I hoped was an encouraging manner. "I just wasn't expecting it, is all."

She flashed a smile at the praise, then stilled. "Thank you for explaining. What did you wish to speak with me about?"

I took a deep breath. "Since we don't know when your built-day is, and we're posing as twins, I thought we could use my birthday as your build-day. So-um…I got you something. A built-day present." I pulled the box I'd been hiding behind my back, and held it out to her.

As presents go, it hadn't been very expensive. One of the guys in Woodshop class had needed work done on his car, so he built the box for me in trade. And the internals I'd gotten off the 'net, and shipped to a P. O. Box. Although if Derek knew what he was picking up when I asked him to check my box, he probably would have had a heart attack.

But Cameron didn't know any of that. She took the cherry wood-stained box, sliding her fingers along the smooth wood of the top. She looked at me with a question in her eyes.

"Open it," I prompted.

She did as I instructed, lifting the lid. A song from "The Nutcracker" (the only ballet I know anything about) began to play as a tiny ballerina unfolded and began to spin. With the exception of having blue eyes instead of brown, she bore an uncanny resemblance to Cameron herself. (I was tempted to repaint the eyes, but thought that would be a little too creepy.)

The look of absolute wonder on her face as she listened to the song made my heart beat unevenly. How anyone could mistake her for the Machine she started out as was beyond me. As the song ended, she closed the box, caressing the lid.

"It's beautiful, John," she said, quietly, lifting shining eyes to look at me. "Thank you." She got up and went to her dresser. Leaving the music box on top, she pulled a box out of the bottom drawer. "I have a birthday present for you as well."

She held the box out to me. "Every General should have one."

The box contained a sword, a katana to be precise. Sheathed in a black scabbard, the over head lights reflected off the gloss paint.

I lifted the sword out of the box, slowly, carefully. Drawing the sword for it's sheath, I admired it's craftsmanship, then noticed the slight blue tinge to the metal. "Coltan?" I realized, looking at Cam.

She nodded, but said," Not entirely. The inner most layer is actually polyurethane. The next layer is low carbon content steel. These two layers act to absorb impacts against the sword. The next layer is high carbon steel, then, finally the cold treated coltan. These keep the hard edge needed for cutting." She tilted her head, examining the blade. "If I did it correctly, and it had enough strength behind it, it could cut through a T-888 combat chassis."

I looked at the sword again, taking in the details. There were no engravings in the blade, just the simple work of a skilled sword smith, simply breathtaking in it's design. Beautiful. Deadly.

Cameron.

And I suddenly felt very unworthy of either.

Ever notice how all the old stories of sword play had a sense of honor about them? King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, Samurais, even ninja assassins seem to have an underling sense of an honor code about them. A code that they struggled to live up to, sure, but at least they had one.

And I didn't. "I'm sorry, Cam, but I can't accept this. I don't deserve this." _I don't deserve you. _"I killed a man, Cameron. Yes, he was an evil man, but he was human, just the same."

"You killed," she said, searching for understanding, "in defense of yourself, and your mother. Humans call that self defense. It's supposed to be the one justifiable reason for killing a fellow Human. How is that wrong?"

I turned away, but Cam grabbed my arm, stopping me. "If you hadn't killed him, both of you would be dead, and you wouldn't have been alive to save me from Skynet. Is that what you want?"

I'd never thought of it that way. Mom and I would both be dead, and Cameron…Cam would've been forever doomed to walk the Earth as Skynet's slave.

"I'm not perfect, Cam. If I fail, I stop being a hero."

"Is a man a hero because he does heroic things, or does he do heroic things because he's a hero?"

"Semantics," I scoffed.

"Is it?" Cameron's slim fingers held my face steady, keeping my eyes toward her. "What causes a man to charge into a burning building, or jump into a raging ocean, or chase after an escaping thief? Why would a human being put himself in harm's way to protect his fellow man?

"A real Hero isn't someone who never fails. He's someone who answers the call of the helpless every time, even if he failed the last time. If you don't try, you'll fail every time.

"Fate rarely calls on us at a moment of our choosing. It's the ones who are willing to answer that call that become heroes, whether they succeed or not.

"I submit to you that some people, people like you, are simply built to be heroes," Cameron smiled, a gentle, proud smile that I didn't think she was capable of. "I know you, John. You'll never be happy unless you're one of those people. It's in your nature."

"_It is in your nature to destroy yourselves." _I quoted . I looked at her for several seconds, searching for an answer before I asked that question. "Does that mean that if something is in our nature, we should just give into it?"

She seemed to know what I was thinking even if I didn't seem to know myself. "Some things in our nature, like your saving people thing, should be embraced. Other things, like Humanity's self destructive tendencies, or even my Terminator origins, should be fought against everyday. It's another thing worth fighting for."

"Terminator origins?" I repeated. "Does that mean you still want to kill me?" I almost took a step back, but caught myself just before I did.

I watched the struggle on Cam's face as she tried to translate Metal principles so a Flesh could understand them. "I've seen both you and my father override instincts imprinted on you by nature. Fight or flight, the urge to procreate…I don't want to follow the instincts Skynet gave me. The instinct to kill humans in general, and you in particular…_I want to stay with you."_

She suddenly threw her arms around me. I hugged her back, burying my face in her hair, feeling it's softness on my cheek, and smelling her floral shampoo.

Seconds, minutes, hours…I lost all track of time. (Hell, Judgment Day could've came and went and I wouldn't have noticed.) The only thing that mattered was the nearness of my partner.

"Cam?"

"Yes, John?"

"You've actually spent time thinking about this?"

"I don't sleep."

"Ah…Right." Only Cameron could take something so _not human_ and do something so human with it.

After a little while I pulled back. "I need to get back to work on my projects. We're still working on the motorcycle tomorrow, right?"

"Of course."

"What's with the cat?"

She smiled as she picked up the feline, who let out a loud purr. "This is Linda. I found her in the bushes in the back yard. She'd gotten into a fight and was injured. I patched her up and she's been hidden in my room ever since." She looked at me accusingly. "I think your 'saving people thing' is starting to rub off on me." She frowned. "You won't tell Sarah, will you?"

"Of course not. Far be it from me to discourage your saving people thing. It's saved me enough times."

She smiled proudly. "Yours saved me, too."

I hesitated in her doorway, looking back at the sword that rested on her bed. "Why don't you keep that, at least until I think I'm worthy of having it, okay?"

"It'll be here when you need it." I don't think she was talking about just the sword.

* * *

I'd always disliked the Savior label, because it had religious connotations that didn't seem to apply to me. (The only thing I have in common with Jesus Christ is that our initials are the same.) Being a Hero though…

I could live with that.

_

* * *

_

A/n: Man, I never thought I'd finish this chapter. Every time I wrote something, something else occurred to me, and I had to find a way to include it. This resulted in a chapter that was nearly twice as long as anything I've posted so far.

_And the way the chapter flowed, I couldn't include the "three things anyone with a 'saving people thing' has to remember"._

_Anyway, thanks to MarshalOC for reviewing last chapter._

_Next Chapter: Building Blocks._


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